


Geography Notwithstanding

by MistressPandora



Series: Gods of War [8]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: Lord John Grey and Jamie Fraser are on the run from both the Continentals and the British Army, leading them away their family fleeing to Fraser's Ridge.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey, Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Series: Gods of War [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653670
Comments: 19
Kudos: 49
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Geography Notwithstanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angstosaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angstosaur/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Angsty! Here's a wee bit of light peril to celebrate!
> 
> This fic fills my Bad Things Happen Bingo square: **Bounty on Their Heads**

“I’m sorry, John.”

Lord John Grey shot a glance at Jamie Fraser. He was braced against the trunk of a large tree, sucking in as much air as he could. They both were. It had been a long dash through the forest. They were both extremely fit for their age, but the terrain had been terrible and a company of Continentals was on their tail. 

Grey shook his head, dismissing the whispered apology. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He pressed his back against his own tree, looking up to what he could see of the starry sky through the soaring branches. A reasonable escape route did not present itself in the heavens. 

“Aye, ‘tis,” Jamie said. He peered over his shoulder but the soldiers were still well behind them. “I shouldna said what I did in General Washington’s hearing.”

Grey bobbed his head to the side, conceding the point. “Well, no. But in your defense, you didn’t know he was there. I too assumed that the captain wouldn’t have relayed your message verbatim. Incidentally, why did you call him a… ‘spunktrumpet,’ was it?”

Jamie nodded, looking only a little remorseful and rather pleased with himself. “Aye, twas. I may have been a bit quick to anger wi’ him. He did commission and promote me wi’out my consent. I didna want him to do it again.”

“Sounds like a justified sentiment to me,” John replied, meaning it. “But we knew the Continentals would come after you again eventually. You’re too valuable as a general. And if they know of our connection, they must assume you’re in league with the British.” John blew out a long breath, the burning mostly gone from his chest now. “We should keep moving.”

“Agreed. We dinna want them to pick up the family’s trail and head south.” Jamie pushed off from the tree, took in his surroundings in a practiced sweep, cataloging every conceivable sight, sound and smell, within seconds. 

Grey had no doubt that Jamie had discerned where the continentals were in that short amount of time. He followed Jamie’s nod to the west, ducking into the dense briar. “As long as we’re making apologies, I am sorry too. For Hal.”

Jamie tossed him an incredulous look over his shoulder, just barely visible in the sparse moonlight. “That’s no’ yer fault, John. Ye were retired. Yer brother kent that.” He cut sharply to the left, hopped over a game trail, and kept on in that long, hill-walker stride. Grey scrambled to keep up. “If anyone is to blame for yer recommission, it’s the duke.”

“True,” Grey said. He dodged a low branch and grumbled. “Meddlesome arse. I should have spoken to him about it, though.” But what could he have said? That Grey’s lovers, one of which being his “ _ex_ -wife,” as Claire had termed their marital status, knew the future and had told him he was on the losing side of history? That no matter his feelings for his family of origin, no matter his sense of duty and honor, Grey had chosen to heed the word of a time traveler once convicted of witchcraft? Not bloody likely. 

So they had run. Grey was officially away without leave from the British Army, as was Jamie from the Continentals, with his brother’s regiment and Washington’s troops nipping both at their heels. Claire, Willie, and the rest of their large family—motley and blended and unorthodox—had fled via a circuitous route toward Fraser's Ridge. 

When Grey and Jamie Fraser had decided that the safest place for all the people they cared for was together as allies, Grey had gained acceptance into an enormous fount of love and belonging just as surely as Willie had. It had admittedly taken many hours of family conversation and no small quantity of whatever spirits had been available for all parties to come to a consensus on the nature of their burgeoning clan, but they had arrived nonetheless. 

That all seemed so very long ago. So much had happened since then. In the world around them. Between them. War. Tragedy. Joy. Laughter. Love. Above all else: love. The foundation of their odd triad—Grey, Jamie, and Claire—was not originally made of solid stuff like honesty and open communication. But they had worked through it, slowly laying down each brick, with great care and a lot of tears. In the end, the mortar that held it all together had been Jamie, and the immense love for him that both Grey and Claire felt, that united them. 

Somewhere a hound bayed. Probably nothing, Grey thought. Seemed awfully dramatic for Washington _or_ Hal to send the bloody dogs after them. Or did it? Nevertheless, Jamie and Grey changed course again darting across a stream, though it was likely insufficient to throw the dogs off their scent if they were indeed with one of the armies, tracking them. 

Jamie spotted a narrow game trail and they darted onto it, following it through a viney mass of brush on hands and knees when it appeared to dead-end. Some of the vines had tiny thorns, not long enough to break the skin but that clung to their clothes, making the journey through even more difficult. They emerged covered in bits of leaf and stem into a clear section of river bank. The river was wide enough that pale moonlight penetrated the break in the trees, glittering on the babbling surface of the water and wet stones that lined and dotted the river. 

Their hot breath curled like wisps of smoke from their mouths. They’d been travelling, mostly at a trot if not an all-out run, since nightfall and dawn was not far off, the silky winter sky taking on a violet hue. Grey was worn to the absolute bone. His lungs burnt and his knees wobbled. He didn’t think he even had a mile left in him without rest. And they were onto their second day with no more to eat than a handful of berries that Jamie said were safe. They had had to leave so quickly, there hadn’t been time to take anything other than what they’d had on them. Besides, the women and children needed what provisions had been to hand. Perhaps tomorrow they could hunt in the twilight before continuing on through the night.

As exhausted and sore as Grey was, Fraser had to be in worse shape. He’d begun to favor his right leg and the way carried himself toward the river, it seemed his back was giving him trouble again. If John had been a religious man, he would have prayed ardently that Jamie’s back didn’t go out. They’d be thoroughly stranded if it did. There was no way in hell that Grey would be able to move Fraser without the big Scot’s help. 

They slogged through the mire of exhaustion and crouched at the water’s edge, the both of them wincing and groaning, and scooped water to their mouths by the handful. It was cool and clear and practically ambrosia on Grey’s empty stomach and he drank until his belly protested. He sat back in the damp earth next to Jamie and shook his head. “We have to stop for the day. I can’t go much further unless you want to carry me.”

“Nay, John,” Jamie said, catching his breath again. “I couldna carry ye if I wanted to in my present state. We’ll find a place to camp.” He made to rise, his face contorting into a grimace of agony. 

“Shit,” Grey muttered, scrambling to his feet before Jamie hurt himself. “Here, let me help you.” 

Jamie tried to wave him off. “Nay, I’ll bide, John. I’ll bide.”

“Like hell you will, you stubborn arse.” Grey got his hands under Jamie’s arms and hauled him up careful to let him dictate direction and angle. 

Once upright and on his feet, Jamie stretched gingerly, his spine making a horrific racket of cracks and pops. Try as he might have to suppress or disguise it, John heard the pained whimper escape his tightly pressed lips. 

Grey wrapped his arm around Jamie’s middle, Jamie draping an arm over John’s shoulders for support. He nodded upstream. “There may be sufficient shelter that way. The forest looks very dense there,” Grey said. 

Jamie nodded and leaned on John. “Aye, agreed.” 

They hobbled on, slowly, shuffling their weary feet and clinging to one another. The forest closed in around them again, the violet sky disappearing above a canopy of dark trees. Without warning, Jamie pitched to the side with a shout, plowing into John and driving them both to crumple in the dirt. Jamie let out a string of truly abominable curses in French, and John echoed these in German. 

“What the devil happened?” Grey hissed.

“I’ve stepped in a hole, like a damn fool” Jamie said, continuing to swear as he tried to work his legs into a more useful position. “I’m sorry, John. Are ye’ alright?”

Grey snorted. “ _Am I alright_ , he says. Yes, I'm bloody alright, you ridiculous man." 

It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but Grey thought Jamie looked a bit green about the edges as he heaved himself off of John. It chilled his heart to see his lover thus and John swallowed around the ugly knot of worry rising in his throat. "Can you stand."

Jamie's arms trembled as he tried to push himself up, grunting in pain and collapsing onto his back. He shook his head, face grim. "Nay. I didna hurt my ankle, but the fall wrenched my back."

Grey sat up in the dirt next to Jamie and again swore mightily in German. 

Jamie nodded in agreement. "Aye, my sentiments precisely." He grimaced again. "The last time it was almost three days before I could move myself. Ye dinna have that kind of time."

"You're right, _we_ don't," Grey countered. "But we can't stay in the open like this for long. I'll have to move you."

The sound that came out of Jamie was part rueful laugh, part pained gasp. "Now there's an amusing thought, ye carrying me off. Nay, just find something to conceal my position and leave me a pistol and my dirk. I'll catch ye up at the Ridge."

"Like hell, you stubborn arse. Who said anything about carrying you? I'll find us a place to make camp and then fetch you." Grey bent and kissed Jamie on the mouth, fighting hard not to let his worry show. He flashed an impish grin, hoping it didn't look forced. “Don't move."

"Verra funny." Jamie’s scowl only looked halfway earnest as he accepted the loaded and primed pistol that John handed him. 

Every step still hurt, but now that their surviving the day depended solely on Grey, he pushed on through the pain and exhaustion. He hobbled into the forest, searching for a site that would afford them camouflage and a defensible position. A small cave perhaps, but he didn’t think Jamie would be able to make it in or out of one without further injury. 

Eventually he came upon a large, gnarled tree growing at an odd angle, with huge roots sticking up out of the earth. There was enough room that the two of them could lie close together, with a pistol propped up on one of the thick roots for leverage and cover. They would only need a little foliage to shield them from view and it would serve nicely as an emergency shelter. Another quick glance around and John identified a few trees with low branches he could cut easily. But the sky was lightening with approaching dawn and Grey could think only of getting back to Jamie, lying prone and as defenseless as the man had ever been while conscious. 

A cold knife of worry for Jamie twisted in his gut and rather than fight it, Grey let it reinvigorate him, let it drive him on faster. He had grown accustomed to this feeling as a soldier, or something like it at least, had learned to use it to his advantage. It was not unlike a battlefield, he reminded himself, in that he could let the ugly emotions of fear or rage spur him on through impossible odds.

But he’d never had to fight through the fear of losing Jamie Fraser in battle before. He picked up the pace, back to the clear bit of pitted dirt where he’d left him, feeling quite disconnected from his own legs at this point. 

The clearing was empty. Jamie was gone. 

Half a dozen gruesome scenarios whirled through John’s mind. Washington’s men had found him. Hal’s men had found him. Some predator had dragged him off to breakfast. Some combination of the three. Any number of fantastical tragedies. But he hadn’t gone that far, how could something like that have happened to Jamie and Grey not hear it?

“Shit,” he swore, looking around. Perhaps he’d taken a wrong turn? He had a good sense of direction but he was exhausted after all. Maybe he hadn’t gone far enough. “Jamie?” he called as loudly as he dared, which was not very loud. “Jamie? Can you hear me?” _Christ._ Grey swallowed hard, the air freezing cold in his chest, his breath steaming in front of his face. The sun would be up soon and they needed to get off the road. “Jamie, for God’s sake, where the devil are you?”

“John,” came Jamie’s voice from his left and slightly behind him. 

Grey jumped and whirled around to see Fraser off to the side of the clearing, panting and sweating. “Fucking hell,” John spat. “How on earth did you get over there?” He crouched next to Jamie and laid a hand on his cheek.

Fraser closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. “I crawled. More or less.”

“My darling, you are positively infuriating, did you know that?” Grey was too worn out to put even mock heat into his words and kissed him, brushing the wild, loose strands of hair away from Jamie’s face. “I found a place to camp. Do you promise not to complain too much while I drag you?”

“Oh _God_ ,” Jamie groaned. “No I do not.”

“That’s the spirit. Try not to drag your heels in the dirt.” Grey took a hold of Jamie under his arms and pulled. He bent low, trying to jostle Jamie as little as possible as he dragged him. Dear God in heaven, it was going to be a long trip back to that tree. “Curse your bloody Viking ancestors,” John said. “I cannot think of a single reason for a man to be as enormous as you, do you realize that? Do you suppose Odin found ladders to be particularly insulting?”

Jamie began to chuckle but it dissolved into a pained groan and he swore in French. “Dinna make me laugh, _mo leannan_.” His voice was thready with pain, like he was forcing every word through a gauntlet of sharp obstacles. 

“Sorry.” John’s own back was protesting most vehemently, but the sky had lightened to a hazy orange. He didn’t dare stop until they had made it to the tree. 

“Besides,” Jamie went on. “Ye love that I’m sae large. Makes it easier for me to manhandle ye.”

Under other, less perilous circumstances, a statement like that would have made Grey shudder and demand to be taken to bed for a demonstration. Instead he just let out a chuckle, breathless from exertion. “Fair point, sir. Unfortunately, it has the precise opposite effect on my ability to manhandle _you_.”

They fell quiet for a long time, just the sound of their shuffling struggle. “Do you suppose,” Grey said after several minutes of dragging Jamie. John was breathing hard, and had to speak through teeth gritted against exertion and growing agony. “They’ve printed up broadsheets—” John grunted with the effort of steering Jamie around a large stone. “—With our faces on them yet?”

“I would imagine that Washington has,” Jamie said with a hint of humor peeking through his strained tone. “Would His Grace advertise that his own brother is away without leave and consorting wi’ the enemy?”

John snorted. “After what your—er, my… _our_ wife did to him in Philadelphia, I wouldn’t be surprised.” He realized they’d arrived at the tree and sighed in relief, helping Jamie get settled as comfortably as could be managed. “I only hope he had the common courtesy to ensure a flattering likeness. Wait here.”

He broke off the branches he’d identified earlier, dragging them to the tree, skirting wide to brush over some of the tracks they’d left in the dirt. He returned to Jamie to find him shivering, either with cold or exhaustion, or possibly tremors from the pain. Grey bit the inside of his cheek to keep Jamie from seeing his worry. “What do you reckon they’ve set for our bounty?” He covered the opening with branches. It wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, but that’s what their guns were for.

Jamie shook his head weakly. “I dinna expect Washington to be that hell-bent. What about yer brother?”

Grey eased into the narrow space next to Fraser and wrapped both arms around him, draping a leg over his for good measure. “Oh, a thousand pounds at least.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide and he made a sound like a choking parrot. “Ye canna be serious.”

“Well, I hope so. I’d be offended if he didn’t set it at least that high.” Jamie’s lips were cold against Grey’s mouth, and John kissed him until they were warm again. 

When at last John pulled away, Jamie’s eyes were closed, his face relaxing toward sleep. “When we make it to the ridge. It may be best if we dinna tell Claire you dragged me while my spine was in knots.”

“Ah, true.” _If we make it back to the ridge_ , Grey thought, but didn’t say so. “She’ll scold us both like a magpie.” He kissed Jamie again. “You should try to sleep, if you can. I’ll watch over you, my love.” Grey laid his head on Jamie’s chest, felt the gentle rise and fall of his breath, the steady drumbeat of his heart. Geography notwithstanding, _this_ —lying close to Jamie Fraser’s side—was home. They would weather this storm like they had so many before. Together.


End file.
